


As the World Falls Down

by Turnandfacethepaige



Series: Labyrinth Au [1]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016)
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Basically the ballroom scene from Labyrinth but with Stephen and Mordo, Labyrinth AU, M/M, Stephen's a teenager in this and Mordo's an adult btw, aka the Labyrinth Au nobody asked for but I'm giving anyways, because i love these films so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 09:23:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10553942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turnandfacethepaige/pseuds/Turnandfacethepaige
Summary: Stephen wasn't sure what was happening now. This day just got weirder and weirder.





	

Stephen wasn’t sure what was happening now. He remembered running through the Bog of Eternal Stench, and picking up the Ancient One along the way. She had to be about the height of his kneecaps, with a bald, almost egg-like, head, and a small horse big enough for her to ride on and keep up with them. Well. Horse. If you looked at it a little closer, it almost looked like a dog, with a saddle tied on it and a glum expression. 

Well, Stephen had had enough experience in this weird place to know that looking a little bit closer at things wasn’t always the best idea. 

They had been toddling along at a fair pace, winding their way through the woods and the groves of the forest that led up to the the castle, when Wong had slowed to a stop, clearly tired and mumbling something low beneath his breath. 

‘Come on, Wong,’ he had urged, putting his hands on his shoulder, trying to push him forward a little. ‘We can’t stop here.’

Wong had groaned something that sounded very similar to a curse and headed off, slowly, after the Ancient One’s chirruping voice and the horsey barking of the dog. Stephen sighed and had followed after him when there came a tugging at the back of his shirt.

He had turned to see Kaecilius, scowling at the ground, before suddenly thrusting up a peach into Stephen’s face.

‘Here.’ he said curtly.

Stephen had been surprised at that. He hadn’t really expected Kaecilius to be friendly towards him, what with him having sulked and scowled his way throughout the entire journey through the labyrinth, muttering snide comments towards Stephen under his breath as they did so. But, hey, if the guy was trying to be nice, Stephen wasn’t going to be a dick and tell him not to be. And he was offering him a peach. Stephen hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since at least yesterday, and he was thirsty as hell after getting out of the Bog. So, with a gracious smile, he’d thanked him and taken the peach, and taken a bite.

It was pretty much instant. It didn’t even seem real, what happened, it was so quick it was as though it was a dream and he was simply falling out of sleep and into the real world. His mouth had gone numb, his fingers had began to twitch as something hot and sleek drifted and coursed through his body, picking up speed and racing through him, making his limbs and body tingle and brim with something that made him feel too sensitive, too aware of his surroundings, as though he had an electric current running through him. His mind had began to swim, burble and crash, and as his knees collapsed beneath him and he plunged to the ground, he had spotted Kaecilius’ purple-green-black eyes grow wide in shocked horror before his vision went black.

There was a shift in the darkness, a warble of something electric and poppy, a haze of liquid silver washing across his view - 

And then everything snapped into place like a rubber band across his back, jolting him upright, pushing him forward across -

A ballroom?

No - no, that was - that was wrong - it wasn’t a ballroom - it was - it was -

A ballroom. And an occupied one at that.

This day just got weirder and weirder.

Women in long, floating dresses trailed across the marble floor, silks and masks draped across their faces, shrieking with howling laughter as men in crushed tunics and long-nosed masks pursued them with braying jeers. The light from the hundreds of candelabras that decorated the walls cast rich, golden shadows across the rippled marble floor, almost like a soothing dream that Stephen had had before. People slow danced around to a smooth, dreamy little tune that seemed to have no source, and at the tables and chairs that dotted the room, couples sat in their laps and giggled into each other’s necks and throats, sniggering into cakes and other people’s lips.

Oh, and he was wearing a suit. Wonderful.

It wasn’t even a normal suit - about as normal as his suits usually were. It was white satin, creamy against his skin, and smooth and caressing like a lover’s hands. He could see the way the white silk shirt that was tucked into his pants curved and clung to his chest, and his trousers were tight against his legs, defining them with a lustful easiness. He could feel the curl of silver that nestled in his collar bones, entwine his neck. 

Oh god, there was even something like a crown in his hair, he realised as he put his hands up to feel his hair slicked back and tugged into something fluffy and romantic.

God this was like some weird, creepy dream. If David Bowie was planning on lurking within the crowds and start singing some song about the end of the world, he was going to loose his shit.

Stephen stepped forward hesitantly, the click of his heeled white shoes sounding deafeningly loud in the ballroom, and flushed as what appeared to be every eye in the room swivelling round to face him. He took another step, another click, and the ballroom seemed to grow narrower, as though the people surrounding him were closing in on him somehow.

Another step and they got closer, closer, closer still. Stephen could begin to smell them, smell the heat of bodies and sweat and perfume and sweet, sugary peaches, could see the glitter and gleam of rubies and emeralds and the sultry, richness of amber sewn onto thinning satin and the whisper of scarlet petticoats against the marble floor, and hear their whispers, the hush of their voices gossiping and murmuring, as intimate as a heartbeat, buzzing in his ears.

He swallowed, stumbled, swallowed again as they stared at him with gaping eyes, warm breath escaping their hungry lips, and he began to worry as he pushed his way to the middle of the room. What the hell was this place? What the hell was happening to him? 

He shoved and shoved, pushing forward, until it felt like the crowd was almost leaping on top of him, trying to consume him, eat him alive -

There was a sharp, clear click of somebody’s fingers snapping. 

There was a pause, and then they were all dragging away, leaping away from him, scattering across the ballroom, and Stephen could breathe again. He glanced up to meet his saviour.

Standing before him on the small stairway that led down into the ballroom, was Mordo.

Stephen felt his breath catch in his throat and his balls fall straight off his body and the face of the earth, before returning and promptly re-inserting themselves up his arse.

Mordo began to slope down the stairs, one elegant foot in front of the other, his hand sweeping the bannister, his hot gaze blazing down on Stephen, his mouth a smile of a lion that had spotted a poor, injured little lamb that had hobbled just in front of its path, and was beginning to remember just how tasty lamb was when starvation kicks in.

The Goblin King was beautiful. There was no denying that. He wore a coat of dark crushed lapis lazuli that a madonna would have wept to be wrapped in, with tails that accentuated his form, and black trousers, tucked into what looked like black polished riding boots that ended at his knees. His face was painted black, curls of patterns licking the corner of his lips, framing his eyes, jutting against his cheekbones, and all the while, those dark, intense eyes never once left Stephen’s face.

He reached the bottom of the staircase and approached the frozen Stephen with the elegance of a lynx, and the pride and intelligence of one as well. Stretching out one long-fingered hand, Mordo bowed the tiniest bit before raising himself up to look Stephen in the eye.

‘May I?’ he purred.

Even his voice was beautiful, Stephen found himself thinking dumbly as he simply gawked at him. Rich and warm and seemed to encapsulate you in a way he had never thought possible. It belonged to something inhumane alright. 

Stephen swallowed once more, floundering uselessly, a stupid teenager in front of a breath-taking man, when Mordo took a step forward and opened his mouth.

‘My dear,’ he murmured, and the sound of his voice made the hair on Stephen’s neck stand up on end, ‘Has nobody ever taught you that refusing a dance is the height of rudeness?’

Stephen may have been an idiot, and he may have been dressed like one, but even he knew the threat that lurked in Mordo’s voice with sick glee. He really didn’t want to imagine what Mordo would do to him if he left him any longer.

He was brave. He would do this.

He reached out and placed his hand within Mordo’s, surprised at the warmth of it, and blinked in surprise when Mordo placed his hand on Stephen’s waist and began to steer them round the room in time to a waltz.

So he was going to have to be the girl then. 

His steps were uneasy and clumsy, tripping over his own feet, not used to the elevation given to him by the heels, and he bit down hard at his bottom lip and glared at Mordo when he smirked at him for accidentally squashing his toes.

‘My, my, Stephen,’ he said softly, ‘You dance as though nobody has ever bothered to taught you. Such a shame,’ he added, leaning a little closer, and Stephen felt a blazing blush rise in his cheeks and in neck. ‘You look so pretty like this.’

Stephen spat out a gritted, ‘Shut up.’ and carried on stumbling.

Suddenly, Mordo grasped his waist and lifted him clean off his feet, making him squeak in surprise, sweeping him around and twirling him before rushing forward to grasp his hands and dip him, tango style, before quickly bringing him back up, his hand pressed to Stephen’s lower back the way a love would. It was done so smoothly, so lazily, it was almost like second nature to him, and not some fiendishly difficult move that Stephen could never have done in a million years. His hair was tied up, knotted in a bun at the top of his head, and the rest poured like a thick black river around his shoulders, curling around his throat and dipping into the edges of his jacket. It swayed and fluttered as the two of them moved, and Stephen could smell it, sweet and creamy - like a strawberry milkshake.

Mordo smiled, smug as a cat, and said, ‘So, Stephen, how are you enjoying my labyrinth?’

Stephen glared at him and raised his nose in the air. ‘It’s a piece of cake.’

Mordo’s smile widened. ‘Really? You think so?’

A flash of anxiety in his stomach, and Stephen raised his head further, dug his hands into Mordo’s upper arm and gritted his teeth. Nobody smiled like that without a reason behind it, and the majority of Mordo’s reasoning was insane at the best, and absolutely terrifying at the worst.

‘Yes.’ he said.

Mordo hummed pleasantly, steering Stephen around a couple who seemed to be waltzing, moving them until they were right in the centre of the room. Stephen glanced around him to see that the couples before were watching the pair of them intently, eyes hungry and alert beneath their masks. He turned back to see Mordo still smiling that same smile.

‘Where am I?’ he asked slowly, wary of what reply he would receive from Mordo.

Mordo said, ‘Why do you want to know? Are you not enjoying yourself?’

Stephen said, ‘I can’t say that I am, I’m afraid.’

Mordo cocked his head. ‘Was that sarcasm I detected there?’

Stephen said nothing, glaring at him. Mordo glanced at him from under his eyelashes and said coyly, ‘We’re in my castle, Stephen. That’s where you’ve been wanting to get to from the beginning - you should be thanking me for allowing you to come here.’

A woman in a dress the colour of the earth after a monsoon had passed suddenly leapt in their path, and Stephen gasped, lurched backwards away from her. Mordo swooped forward, stalked after him and caught him again, steering them around again, white teeth stark in his dark face.

Stephen swallowed and said, ‘But why did you allow me to come here now? Why after all this time do you suddenly just allow me in?’

Mordo took a breath in through his nose, rolled his head back, baring his throat to Stephen and rolled it back, letting out a deep sigh. ‘I was bored. I wanted some fun. You looked like you could do with a little fun.’

‘Is everything funny to you?’ Stephen demanded.

‘Funny things are.’ Mordo guided them past a table of women wearing white silk dresses and studded tiaras of something that glowed black under the light of the torches. ‘And you - my sweet little bird - are by far the funniest thing my labyrinth has ever encountered. You and your funny little journey.’

‘You stole my sister!’ Stephen flashed angrily.

‘Yes, I know.’ Mordo smiled, and Stephen was suddenly aware of how sharp and how white his teeth were, each sharpened to an individual point. ‘Hilarious, isn’t it?’

He struggled for words for a minute, shrinking under the dual combination of Mordo’s sharp gaze and the promise of pain that glinted sharp inside his mouth. Finally, he spat out; ‘You’re a sick fuck.’

Mordo chuckled, soft and low, and if Stephen hadn’t been one more smile away from shitting his pants, he may have found it somewhat endearing. However Stephen found that goblin kings who steal baby sisters in the middle of the night and send death machines that have large spikes attached at you in the middle of a mine were probably the exact opposite of endearing.

Mordo purred, ‘My dear, I’ve been bored for a millennia; allow me some sort of entertainment.’

‘Do you think this is some sort of game?’ 

‘Well, now that you put it like that…’

Stephen hissed, ‘My sister’s life isn’t some sort of game for you to enjoy!’

‘You should have thought of that before you wished her away, my dear.’

Stephen didn’t know how to reply to that. He sputtered, and decided to cut to the point. ‘So how did I get here then?’

Mordo said, ‘Remember that peach that Kaecilius gave you?’

It took Stephen two seconds to put two and two together. ‘You enchanted it.’

Mordo cooed. ‘Clever boy, Stephen.’

He stroked the small of Stephen’s back as he said it, and Stephen stiffened. Mordo inched closer to him, smiling, leaning and pushing him until Mordo was bending him over, one leg wedged between Stephen’s thighs, and his breath ghosted over Stephen’s face like liquid velvet.

‘But, I think, not clever enough to know what this is all for.’

Stephen stared at him, and the confusion must have shown on his face because the next thing he knew, Mordo’s hand was gently cupping the back his neck and tilting his head until Stephen caught sight of the large gilt clock that hung on the other side of the wall.

The hands were stuck on twelve o’clock.

He had spent three hours here.

He had one hour left.

Stephen gasped, and in a movement so fluid he was surprised it had come from him, he reached up to Mordo’s chest and shoved him away, pushing him off him, his head rushing slightly as he lurched to his feet quickly. 

His heart was pounding, pulse shooting up as anxiety and horror began to kick in, and he floundered uselessly in the crowded ballroom, horrified gasps tearing out of him. Mordo stood, impassive and bold before him, laughing at his rising terror, and it only served to increase it further. 

He had to get out, he had to escape.

He shoved away, tearing the length of the ballroom, his stupid heels clacking loudly with every step, making him stumble over skirts and table legs. A leg suddenly stuck out, and he tripped over, falling hard onto his knees. Glancing behind him, he saw Mordo slinking towards him, hair bouncing in the light that was now too rich, too dreamy, closing in on him, eyes alight with something greedy and lustful.

Oh hell no, he wasn’t going out like this.

Getting to his feet, he sprinted, running towards the far side of the ballroom, to the wall that looked like a silver wave, rippling and and glitching in and out of existence. He pounded his fists against it, hot tears beginning to spill form his eyes as his breaths grew shorter and shorter, gasping terrified breaths. It was like the whole room was enclosing on him, getting smaller and smaller, and he could hear the clicks of Mordo’s heels as he pursued him across the room, getting closer and closer and closer, until it would just be him and Mordo, until Mordo got hold of him again, and Mordo would do anything he wanted to him, anything at all, and Stephen wouldn’t be able to stop him, wouldn’t be able to do anything to him, would have to just take it and suffer.

Stephen stumbled wildly, and spotted, out of the corner of his eye, a golden chair, currently vacant. Without even a second thought, he seized it and with all the strength he had, slammed it against the wall.

There was a crack, a shatter of glass and then the wall was cracking, splintering before his gaze, fragments of glass flying everywhere, a shard rushing past his cheek and missing by a breath. Something jolted beneath his feet, and he felt himself falling through the glass, plunging down into the cold oblivion. As he fell down, surrounded by the broken fragments of glass and gilt, he could hear the screams of the people within the ballroom and the crash and bang as furniture collapsed and broke against marble.

And all the while, the eerie, high laughter of the Goblin King echoed and echoed around him, never ceasing, never leaving him alone.

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, I love Labyrinth, and this pairing seems like a really good pairing to use for a Labyrinth AU.  
> Also, Mordo has long hair in this one because Chiwetel Ejiofor is gorgeous and I feel like he would pull of that look so easily.  
> I feel like this was a bit too rushed, so if it's really clunky in places, sorry. Anyways, hope you all enjoyed it! Thank you so much for everyone who's left kudos and comments on my other pics it means so much to me :D  
> I have a tumblr! Come and check me out at turn-and-face-the-paige


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